What Lies in the Dark
by darthsydious
Summary: Grima Wormtongue is banished. For Éowyn though, old habits are hard to break, especially in the dark of night. Legolas/Éowyn friendship


Grima Wormtongue is banished from Théoden King's court. Banished from Rohan. Even as he cowers on the stones, he threatens, he spews curses, and while he directs them to the king, to Gandalf and even to Aragorn, his gaze drifts often to the pale woman, her golden mane a tangle caught in the winds. His cold eyes seem to bore into her. Even surrounded by men she is certain would step between her and Grima Wormtongue, she cannot help but cower, ducking her head to look anywhere but him. No! This is a moment of triumph! He has no power over her! She lifts her head, bringing her own cold gaze upon him, sticking her chin out. He hisses, rising to his feet, as if to leave. And then suddenly he has leapt upon her, grasping her wrists, making to throw her down the steps with him. Théoden cries out, but she holds out her hand for him to stop. She knows if any makes to help her, Wormtongue would kill them both. The lies that tumble from Grima's mouth make her faint with sickness. She prays they are lies. Prays that in the night, when her fears give way to sleep he did not enter her chambers, did not do the things he claimed she did willingly to him. He presses her to him; a dagger from his cloak presses her throat. For an instant, she would rather pitch herself over the steps herself, than die at his hand. In her native tongue, his speaks into her ear, so the foreign visitors cannot understand him. But he does not know that the Elf can hear, can understand, and his own silvery-blue eyes burn now with anger. Wormtongue is distracted, distracted by her beauty, by his words. Legolas makes his move. Éowyn does not quite see how she is taken from Wormtongue's grip, but in only moments, she is in her uncle's arms, Grima has rolled halfway down the steps, his lip and nose bleeding. The Elf nurses his hand, Aragorn at his side, as if holding him back. The dwarf taunts the fleeing traitor.

Safe. At last her Uncle knows her, and she weeps in his arms. He soothes her, promising her there will be time to speak more privately. When she is consoled, he asks she bring their visitors to chambers fitting them. They have traveled for so long together, they are reluctant to part, but after a moment, Aragorn insists they take the private chambers Éowyn offers them. It would be an insult not to, and none of them knew what the next day would bring. Proper, peaceful rest would be welcome. They will sleep on real beds, with eiderdown covers and a warm fire in the hearths.

"I will see my room after." Legolas declares. He wishes to bind his hand first. Éowyn returns in a while, after he's had time to heal his broken knuckle. As she brings the Elf to his room, she hesitates at the entrance of the hall. Fear marks her face, and her hands tremble a moment.

"I left my candle with the dwarf." She murmurs.

"Can you not see? It is not very dark." Legolas says.

"I always have a candle, in this hall."

"There is no need to be afraid anymore." He says gently. She squares her shoulders, turning sharply to look at him. He only returns her gaze.

"Come master Elf. Here is your room." And she leads him down the dim corridor, she gestures to two doors opposite "There are your friends, quite close should you need them." He nods. "A great feast is being prepared for the return of Théoden, to celebrate the life of his son past now, and for the grace of your arrival." He bows in response, and watches her leave. Her pace is quick, and her body alert, sharp eyes glancing, searching the dark hall as she hurries from it.

The great feast lasts far into the night; the moon is long risen when it does at last come to a close, the Rohirrim both mourned and celebrated that evening, warmly welcoming the visitors who had broken the curse over their king. All throughout, Legolas had watched Éowyn. Dressed in mourning, the Shieldmaiden took her place at her uncle's side. Messengers had been sent out to find Éomer, her brother, who had been unjustly banished when Wormtongue had the king's ear. Torches in the great hall are extinguished, and guests depart. She stands at the edge of the dark hall. Most have gone to bed now. Legolas sees her hesitate; she takes a breath, her pale face turns to and fro, her shoulders hunched. The heavy folds of her mourning gown quiet her footsteps, she walks as if tense. These movements are rehearsed, and Legolas wonders who she sneaks from. He nearly scoffs then, of course she is afraid. Wormtongue preyed upon her.

"Who do you search for?" he asks aloud, and she gasps, whirling around.

A hand over her heart, she steps back, eyes lit with fear, only to see it is him. It is the elf. It is not Grima Wormtongue, coming to poison her mind. "I am sorry." He says, holding his hands up in defense. She carries a dagger with her, she clutches it now, where she pulled it from he is uncertain. He does know, however that this Shieldmaiden of Rohan is not as helpless as people might think. Her stance revealed her training, and he had no doubts about her expertise. "I will not harm you." He said steadily, "I did not mean to frighten you." She lowers the dagger, slipping it in the folds of her gown.

"You shouldn't apologize." She says softly, wary of the slumbering guests. "After all you didn't mean to."

"What frightens you?" he asks. He knows what scares her, but he wants to hear her say it. She sees her fear as her weakness, and she hates it. She is afraid of nothing, nothing but Wormtongue. Afraid of the power he held over her Uncle, the strongest man she knew had crumbled before her eyes into a withered shell, bowing and scraping to whatever Grima spoke into his ear. The thought of that treacherous snake doing so to her petrified her.

"I am afraid of what lurks in the dark." She says at last, her eyes flick from him to the dark corridor over to him. "I am afraid of what goes on, when I can't stay awake any longer. My dreams- my thoughts were plagued by the man- the creature, Grima. I could not know for certain if he was only in my mind, or if he truly sat inside my chambers while I slept." She trembled now, shaking so that she clutched the folds of her gown, trying to steady herself. Carefully, Legolas took her hands, prying them open.

"Will you not look at me?" he asks softly, and she lifts her eyes, full of tears and fear, up to his cool gaze. He studies her, as if reading her thoughts. "I see no darkness in you." He comforts, "No stain upon your heart, nor shadows in your past. There is nothing to hurt you now." He latches his fingers with hers, "You are among friends now." And he smiles. Slowly, she returns it.


End file.
